


You'd Think I Could Find a Way

by Noblehunter



Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Getting Back Together, I think this is what kids are calling a drabble these days, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It's just a thing I wrote after listening to Stan Rogers, M/M, No Beta - I die like all your favourite DC characters, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noblehunter/pseuds/Noblehunter
Summary: It's been longer than Jason would like to admit that he's seen Roy Harper. He's finally screwed his courage to the sticking point and set up a meeting.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	You'd Think I Could Find a Way

**Author's Note:**

> Title and fic inspired by Forty-Five Years by Stan Rogers. That's the guy who wrote Barrett's Privateers.
> 
> If you know the song you'll recognize the lines.

Jason had waited for people in more unpleasant dive bars. At least the floor was sticky from spilled drinks, not spilled blood. The table had been varnished in the distant past and the chairs well made if not well kept. The ceiling was brown and spotted from smoke even if Gotham’s ban on smoking indoors kept the air clear these days. It wasn’t a terrible place to wait. 

The drinks were terrible in the way that took real effort to avoid even accidental quality but that was a mark it the bar’s favour since Roy wouldn’t willingly go anywhere with alcohol he might actually like. Jason pretended to drink the beer he’d ordered, counting on no one caring enough to notice that the level of beer in the glass never dropped. It gave him something to do with his hands. 

He berated his nerves for their absurdity. He’d walked into ambushes with fewer jitters than he felt waiting for Roy to show up. Roy was over an hour late. It had been an hour of his ass going numb since the chair’s cushion had long been pounded into leather; an hour of pretending to drink revolting beer and trying not to be depressed by the wretched sample of humanity that were the bar’s regulars.

Fortunately for Jason’s temper, he could admit that he deserved to be kept waiting. If this was the only petty slight Roy indulged in tonight, Jason would count himself blessed and give thanks. He knew he deserved worse for the way he’d walked out on Roy and Lian. 

It was an hour and seventeen minutes past the arranged time when Roy walked in the bar. Roy was wearing his red sleeveless shirt and black jeans. His arms were still heavy with working muscle but he’d gone a little soft around the middle. He also still wore the goatee that he insisted was not a copy of Oliver’s albeit red rather than blond. His hair was buzzed short. Jason missed him so much it hurt. 

Instead of getting up and running across the room, he leaned back and did his best to project patient indifference as Roy obviously assessed every occupant of the room as a potential threat. He looked at Jason last. Another fake sip of beer allowed Jason to avoid showing any of his feelings. He was tempted to actually swallow some of the vile stuff. Hell, if he’d started when he’d arrived, he could be well and truly drunk by now. For once, he regretted the prudence of his past self instead of his rashness. 

Roy stalked over to the table and sat down without a word. The chair creaked in warning but didn’t give way from the violence of Roy’s arrival. His gaze flicked across Jason’s face, down to the glass of beer, and back up again. Jason wondered what he saw. If he hadn’t been so tense, he would have tried to put on a useful face for Roy, start the conversation with some sincere repentance or even simple pleasure at seeing Roy again. As it was, he kept his face blank, any emotion would have risked too much vulnerability. Jason castigated himself for being an idiot.

“What’s the job?” Roy asked after a server had been sent away with an order for soda water.

“No job,” Jason forced out. In the instant after Roy had asked the question, he’d been seized with the lunatic idea to invent a job, to make up some ridiculous caper that would take weeks to pull off. It was the sort of thing his brother, Tim, would do. Jason prided himself on being wiser if he couldn’t be smarter. 

“How’s Lian?” he asked when Roy didn’t respond. 

“She’s fine.” Roy pressed the palms of his hands to the table as if to push himself to his feet and winced. He lifted a hand and stared at it in disgust. “You couldn’t have picked someplace cleaner?” 

“I was hoping it would be like old times.” 

“Old times like before you walked out on us?”

“Yeah,” Jason muttered into the beer he wasn’t drinking. He took a deep breath, strangled the image of Bruce implying that any display of emotion was weakness, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Roy sat across from him in silence. There was no music playing from overhead speakers or raucous commentary on a sports game from a TV over the bar. No boisterous conversations were being carried on in the next booth over. The clink of glasses and low voiced conversation of the server and bartender did nothing to fill the void. The server deposited Roy’s soda water and left without a word. 

“What are you sorry about?” Roy said. 

“I’m sorry that I left.”

“Is that it? You’re not sorry about anything else?” 

Like blood gushing from a wound, Jason went on, “I’m sorry I pretended it was easy. I’m sorry I made it sound like you had nothing to offer. I’m sorry I picked the mission over you. I’m sorry I listened to the worst parts of me.” He had to stop for breath and clenched his fists. “I’m sorry I pretended that you aren’t the only person I see when I walk into a room. I’m sorry I didn’t say any of this before. I’m sorry I’ve ruined any chance of waking up to see your smiling face for the next forty years.”

“It’s a start,” Roy said. “I was afraid you’d be sorry we didn’t go with you.” 

Jason shook his head. “You and Lian deserve to be safe and happy. You made the right decision, I made the wrong one.”

“And you invited me into this pit just to apologize?” 

“Well, not exactly.” Jason pretended to look at the faded list of specials. He reminded himself that he’d gone this far so there was not point in stopping short. “I was, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee?” 

“Like a date?” Roy leaned back and blinked at him. 

Jason felt his cheeks heat. “Sort of,” he mumbled.

“Jay,” Roy laughed. “We’ve not only slept together, we lived together.” Pain crept into his voice. “Lian called you papa.”

Jason closed his eyes. It had been easier to think about how he’d hurt Roy than how he’d hurt Lian. “I’m going to apologize to her, too.”

“You’ll need to use more than words.”

“I was planning on a castle and a pony.” 

“Don’t you dare, Jason Todd.” 

“There’s an amazing stable just outside of Gotham,” Jason said earnestly. 

“No, Jason, absolutely not,” Roy declared. “You can have your backwards coffee date but no animals for Lian.” 

“Deal,” Jason said quickly. “Now?”

“So soon? That’s awfully forward of you.” 

“I was hoping to speed run the early stages.”

“I might be up for that.”

Jason smiled. “Let’s get out of here before I stick to the chair. Or accidentally drink any of this beer.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know there could be more but this particular well of inspiration is empty. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
